


Yeah, I know

by hajiimee



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Body Image, Fluff, M/M, iwa is self conscious because usually its oikawa and a change is nice, pure fluff, seriously it's just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 02:37:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6220336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hajiimee/pseuds/hajiimee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had been living together for a short two months, and already a few things had fallen into place. One weekdays, Hajime was the first to leave the bed, jolted awake by the beeping of his alarm clock for his morning classes. Instead of crawling closer on those days, Tooru would creep away, trying to distance himself from the noise to savour the few little minutes more of sleep he could. </p><p>Weekends told a different story, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yeah, I know

**Author's Note:**

> This is was written for two anons on tumblr, one who asked for iwaoi with fluff, cuddles, tickles, and more fluff, and the other who asked for squishies, so i combined them haha.

Sunlight trickled into the room in narrow, straight lines, cutting through the dim lighting and draping over patches of bare skin and creased pyjama bottoms. Tooru was the small spoon, as always, body tucked in Hajime’s arms, nose buried in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck and leg thrown haphazardly over the other man’s waist. Beneath Tooru’s waist, Hajime’s arm was uncomfortably numb, and the soft breaths against the skin of his neck was moist and irritating. Though that was Tooru in general, really – irritating. It was just something Hajime had learnt to tolerate, just like how Tooru had come to tolerate Hajime’s bad circulation, and by extension, his constantly ice-cold fingertips that he just _loved_ to drag up the other boys’ back. In his half-asleep state, Hajime’s nose twitched, and he shifted, trying to jog the arm underneath Tooru back into feeling without disturbing him too much. It didn’t work, and Tooru let out a tired whine, foot twitching just enough to kick the back of Hajime’s knee with the heel. Hajime grunted in response, forgoing the careful movements he had originally aimed for, full on yanking his arm from beneath his boyfriend and jolting him away. The sudden loss of a body up against his own was jarring, and cold seeped into his bare skin, prompting him to pull the covers up around himself to make up for the sudden lack of heat.  
  
From his side, there was a huff, and Hajime could feel the bed shift as Tooru once again shuffled closer, undeterred in his pursuit of morning cuddles, a personal favourite of his, only losing by a fraction to movie cuddles. Hajime grunted again, pulling the duvet closer around himself as hands tugged at the thick cover, attempting to unwrap the body within. The silent struggle lasted for about two minutes – the longest to date – before another, more strangled whine left Tooru’s throat, his legs kicking childishly.  
  
“Hajime,” His voice was too high of an octave for the soft tones of the morning. The room was still bathed in those dull, dark tones, the world outside just waking up and the drawn curtains sealing the people inside their own personal bubble. Hajime scrunched his nose, eyebrows furrowing as Tooru’s voice sliced through the quiet. “Hajime.” The second iteration of his name was drawn out, last syllable dragged to an impossible length as the hands at the duvet stopped tugging to pry instead, fiddling uselessly with the duvet cover.  
  
“What?” Hajime’s voice was a complete contrast to Tooru’s – it was deep, and gruff, and croaky with sleep. He still didn’t open his eyes, refusing to relinquish his hold on the dark behind his eyelids just yet. It was a futile mission – he knew that – but every Saturday morning started with the same battle nonetheless. Tooru shifted closer once again, tucking himself up against his burrito’d boyfriend.  
  
“Let me in.” His voice was still caught in that all too familiar whinge, and Hajime himself shifted, wrapping himself tighter. The noise Tooru made in response to that was nothing if not frustrated. Hajime’s lips quirked at the corners, curving into a small, easily hidden smile. His grip on the quilt tightened, and he turned around, facing away from Tooru and letting out a faux-annoyed huff.  
  
“No, you’re uncomfortable. Stay on your side.” His smile only widened when Tooru kicked up a fuss, Hajime able to feel the other boys’ feet kick against the backs of his legs, the sheets beneath them both becoming scrambled from the movement. After a good ten seconds, he just huffed, and the bed creaked as Tooru rolled onto his other side, scooting away and to the other side of the bed, right up against the bed. Again, another Saturday morning constant. The room slipped into silence, only the sound of synced breathing and the distant, muffled rumbling of roadwork audible. Then the hush was broken, and once again the mattress moved as Tooru slipped from the bed. The sound of the ends of his pyjama bottoms, always draping over the bottoms of his feet, dragging across the floor engulfed Hajime’s mind.  
  
When he heard the bathroom door click shut, he flopped onto his back, shedding his cover cocoon and finally opening one eye, looking over to the entrance to their en-suite, smile still curling across his face. He put one arm behind his head, resting against his forearm as his other draped over his bare stomach. The tap turned on, the muffled sound of running water washing over the room, and Hajime let his eye slip closed once again as he breathed in deep, enjoying the lull of their morning routine.  
  
They had been living together for a short two months, and already a few things had fallen into place. One weekdays, Hajime was the first to leave the bed, jolted awake by the beeping of his alarm clock for his morning classes. Instead of crawling closer on those days, Tooru would creep away, trying to distance himself from the noise to savour the few little minutes more of sleep he could as his boyfriend dragged himself up and to the kitchen. Coffee first, teeth second. Tooru was the opposite, and when he was eventually roused, he’d head straight to the sink and to his toothbrush.  
  
Weekends told a different story, though. They involved everything that had transpired that morning, followed by a groggy Tooru waking and washing – not showering, never showering – before dragging himself back into the bedroom, grabbing any hoodie to hand, before heading into the kitchen for coffee. He’d make two cups, but leave Hajime’s on the side, prompting the other to leave the safety of bed and finally accept the morning. And Hajime loved every second of every morning, be it weekend or weekday.  
  
The lock on the bathroom door clicked, and soon Tooru was exiting, shuffling to the chair tucked under their shared desk and rummaging through the pile of clothes stacked on the back, searching for a hoodie. Routine. Their routine. Hajime propped himself up onto his elbow, resting his head in his hand as he raked his eyes over his boyfriend, all the way down from his flicky bedhead, over the baggy training shirt, to the too long polka-dot print pyjama bottoms. His eyes then flickered back up, smile shifting to a smirk at the frustrated pout and knitted brows twisting Tooru’s expression.  
  
“They’re out for the wash.” He said, drawing his boyfriend’s attention. Tooru huffed.  
  
“Nothing’s out for the wash. We never put anything out for the wash.”  
  
Hajime’s smirk stretched.  
  
“No, _you_ never put anything out for the wash. _I_ , however, value clean clothes. All the stuff on that chair is whatever we dumped on it last night. No hoodies. Sorry.”  
  
“You don’t sound sorry at all,” Tooru was glaring at him now, but it held no real strength to it. Hajime shrugged, lips parting to reveal his teeth as he grinned.  
  
“Sometimes a change is needed.”  
  
“And that change is me being cold in the mornings? Rude.” Hajime scoffed in response, shaking his head, taking a hold of the drawstrings of Tooru’s pyjama bottoms and giving a small tug.  
  
“ _No_ , that change is you coming back to bed.” Another tug, more forceful this time. Tooru raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering through brown eyes.  
  
“I thought you wanted to get rid of me just a moment ago?” Despite his words, Tooru began to move back towards the bed, and Hajime rolled onto his back as Tooru through one leg over his waist, settling back onto Hajime’s thighs, hands splayed across the stomach of the man below him. He smirked. “Now suddenly you want me back? Make up your mind, Hajime. I’m not a yo-yo.”  
  
Hajime moved his hands, smoothing them up Tooru’s thighs before dragging them back down again. He repeated the motion again and again, setting a pattern, the thin cotton of Tooru’s pyjama bottoms moving with his hands.  
  
“I’ve made up my mind.” He broke pattern, hands slipping up to Tooru’s waist. He twisted his body, manoeuvring Tooru down onto his back on the mattress and propping himself back up onto his side so that he was half leaning over the man below him. He then dipped his head down, kissing along from just under Tooru’s ear up his jaw and then to his lips, kissing him slowly and sweetly and causing Tooru to grimace.  
  
“You taste gross,” He mumbled against Hajime’s mouth, and Hajime laughed against his lips, nudging his nose against Tooru’s own.  
  
“You taste like mint.”  
  
“That’s because unlike _some_ people I actually care my mouth hygiene.” Hajime’s fingers skirted up under Tooru’s shirt and across his stomach whilst he spoke, causing the last couple of first to hitch as Tooru sucked in a breath, the muscles in his abdomen tensing as the cold fingertips made contact with his flesh. Goosebumps prickled along behind Hajime’s touch, and Hajime let his fingers wander back down over them, tracing the uneven skin. Tooru was in impeccable shape, college volleyball keeping him fit and tight, muscles lean, but not bulging. He had never been the type so show obvious muscle – the strength was there, able to be felt with every splay of a palm across stomach, back, and thighs, but hidden from sight majority of the time. Hajime was the reverse – his muscles had always been well defined, straining his t-shirts and tensing and twitching with every movement.  
  
They _had_ always. Past tense. Forensic Entomology didn’t have training sessions, and juggling a job on top of his classes left him with little to no time to train his body. Without the excuses clouding the true meaning, Hajime had let himself go a bit, hard muscle gradually easing away into soft pudge.  
  
Fingers lace with his own, and he was jolted from his thoughts. His touch had stopped in its path, and Tooru had noticed, his eyebrows contorted and furrowed, and a sharp purse straining his lips. He was staring directly up at Hajime, and despite the displeased look on his face, he gave his boyfriend’s hand a squeeze.  
  
“Stop that.” He said, voice firm, but laced with mild undertones of concern. Hajime blinked, schooling his expression from where he’d unknowingly let his wandering thoughts show on his face.  
  
“Stop what?”  
  
“Stop _that_. The comparing. Stop it.”  
  
Hajime unwound his fingers from Tooru’s, moving it to his boyfriend’s waist instead and smoothing it upwards pushing his shirt up just a tad more, the warmth beneath his palm seeping up through the veins in his arm, a sensation that was familiar, but still as amazing as the first time he was allowed to touch Tooru in such a way. A frown creased his features as he walked his fingers back down Tooru’s side, before lightly dragging his bitten down nails back up again, causing Tooru to tense beneath him from the slight tickle it brought.  
  
“I’m not comparing.”  
  
“You _are_. You’ve been doing it a lot lately.” Hajime opened his mouth to reply, but Tooru beat him to it, continuing on. “Don’t even _dare_ say ‘no I haven’t’, Hajime, because I’ve _noticed_. I’m not stupid.”  
  
“I never said you were stupid.” He said, expression flat with truth. “But I’m not comparing.”  
  
“You _are_.”  
  
“I’m no–” Tooru’s hand darted to Hajime’s stomach pinching the soft flab that had taken up residence there. Hajime recoiled, instinctively sucking in a sharp breath to try and lessen the pudge around his middle. Tooru’s eyes narrowed, and Hajime swallowed.  
  
“You’re pudgy.” So blunt, as always. Hajime gripped Tooru’s side, face twisting with conflicting emotions. “You’re pudgy, and you’re comparing yourself to me, because I’m _not_ pudgy and that’s making you self-conscious. Because you’re _Hajime_ – the brutish gladiator that’s all muscle and no flab, right?”  
  
Tooru gave a tug on the flab he had in his grip, before he let go and let his fingers wander down, hooking in the front of Hajime’s boxer-briefs and giving them a tug forwards. His other hand moved to join, so that both index fingers and middle fingers were latched into Hajime’s boxers, all four as needy as each other in their attempts to pull Hajime fully over him. Hajime complied, his hand forcibly removed from Tooru’s waist as it darted out to support himself, pressing into the mattress and causing it to dip with the new weight.  
  
“I like your pudge.” The fingers left Hajime’s waistband, and both hands smoothed their way up Hajime’s stomach and chest, before Tooru draped his arms over his shoulders, hands twisting so that long fingers could bury themselves in dishevelled hair, spikes limp from sleep.  
  
“It’s disgusting.” The truth came out in a breath, tumbling over chapped lips and hanging in the air from a noose made of measuring tape. Tooru’s thumb moved in circles at the nape of Hajime’s neck, and he merely hummed in response, giving another lazy tug so that their lips were close enough to brush. When he spoke, Hajime smelt mint.  
  
If he moved a bit closer, he’d be able to taste it, too.  
  
“It’s comfortable.”  
  
Hajime laughed, Tooru’s lips slipping out of reach as he let his forehead rest against the boys’ t-shirt instead, smile curving against the fabric of his t-shirt.  
“It’s comfortable?” He echoed, and he could feel Tooru nod more than see it.  
  
“Yeah. It’s comfortable. It makes the movie cuddles ten times better. You’re like my very own cushion. I no longer have to use a pillow as a buffer between my cheek and your abs. I can just cuddle up to your flabby tum.”  
  
Hajime lifted his head, pressing chaste kisses to the outline of Tooru’s jaw, smile stretching wider across his lips. When he reached the corner of his boyfriend’s mouth, he pulled back, looking down at him with a raised eyebrow.  
  
“Is that meant to be a compliment? That my flab makes me a good makeshift bed for you during movies? Because I’m not sure how I feel about that.”  
Tooru smiled, the expression just about bordering on a smirk, and his hands pressed to either side of Hajime’s neck.  
  
“You should feel happy, because you’re looking after your amazing boyfriend’s cheek comfort by having your pudge.”  
  
“Cheek comfort. That’s specific.”  
  
“Well my cheek used to go dead on your muscles. Now it’s all protected.”  
  
“Wow, I’m so proud.” Again, a hand dropped to pinch at his flab, and a grin pried its way across Hajime’s face in response. He leant down, pressing his lips to Tooru’s petulant frown, and not giving him enough time to kiss back before pulling back again.  
  
“Your sarcasm is such a turn off.”  
  
“But my pudge isn’t?”  
  
Tooru shook his head, and he let his fingers flutter across Hajime’s stomach, the touch barely ghosting the skin.  
  
“Nope. I love your pudge. I thought we’d covered this.”  
  
“I need to revise before the exam, though. I don’t think I’ve quite got it down yet. Go over it again?”  
  
Tooru huffed, but it was good natured, amusement lighting up his eyes and brightening his face. He shoved Hajime’s chest pushing him away and onto his back before he wiggled, scrambling to sit between his boyfriend’s legs.  
  
“Fine,” He snapped. “But you better take notes this time.” He sat back, bum resting on the heels of his feet for a moment before he rocked forwards, resting his hands one either side of Hajime’s waist, making direct eye contact with the man below him. “Your pudge is comfortable. Your pudge is useful. It provides me a convenient place to sleep whilst you put on your shitty movies. I love it.”  
  
“Shitty taste in movies? Excuse me James Bond is not _shitty_.”  
  
“I’m leaving you.”  
  
Hajime grabbed Tooru’s wrist, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His other hand moved to snake around Tooru’s thighs, easing him back from where he had gotten up to leave. He buried his smirk in the small of the man’s back, breathing in the scent of his shirt, which held a none too pleasant smell of stale sweat and sleep. Still, he breathed it in nonetheless, smile unwavering.  
  
“You’re staying.”  
  
“Bossy, much?”  
  
Hajime replied only with a sharp pull, prying a squeak in surprise from Tooru’s lips as the man tumbled backwards, Hajime easily shifting his body so that he was leaning over Tooru once again, his boyfriend laying sprawled back against the mattress, hair dishevelled and face contorted in a very displeased look. Hajime smiled down at him, leaning in and kissing the frown from his lips, easing it away with a series of light, chaste pecks. He peppered up and over Tooru’s cheeks and under his eyes. When he spoke, his words were barely above a whisper.  
  
“I know you already know it, but you’re gorgeous.”  
  
“And I know you already know that I know it, but yeah, I know.” Hajime snorted before it fractured into small laughs that shook his shoulders, and he turned his head, pressing his nose into Tooru’s cheek, teeth brushing the skin as his smile smooshed against his boyfriend’s face.  
  
“You really need to learn how to take a compliment properly.”  
  
“I think I take them perfectly well. Besides,” Tooru skirted his hands up Hajime’s sides, causing him to tense. “I’m not the one who’s meant to be taking the compliments right now. I’m not the one with the self-esteem issues, am I?”  
  
“I don’t have self-esteem issues.”  
  
“Uh-huh, sure.” Tooru’s lips curved into a smirk that radiated mischief as his hands wandered further and further, and in reflex, Hajime clamped his armpits shut. Not fast enough, though, Tooru’s hands moving in a split second, his fingers jamming under his arms and causing Hajime’s breath to catch. From thereon, it was a downhill spiral, laughs ripping themselves from his throat as Tooru’s fingers squirmed underneath his clamped arms.  
  
“Fuck- Tooru- Oi-” Each attempt at speech was splintered, punctuated by gasped breaths and unwilling laughter, and Tooru shoved, forcing Hajime onto his back. Hajime’s legs buckled, tucking up and stretching out as he writhed.  
  
“Look at your pudge jiggle. Do you know what causes that? Nature. It’s natural. Flab is natural.” Hajimee choked on his breath, tears stinging the corners of his eyes from the overstimulation of being tickled, lack of oxygen forcing the moisture forth. “Weight is natural, Hajime. It’s what happens when you eat. You know what eating is? The process of putting food in your mouth and digesting it. Do you know what gets rid of weight? Exercise. Do you know what you don’t have time to do? Exercise. Do you know why that is? Well, in short, it’s because you’re not a full time athlete anymore. It’s stupid to expect yourself to meet such rigid body expectations when you have to juggle your job, and your essays, and your classes. Know how I stay in shape? I’m studying _sports_. Do you know what no one will do?”  
  
“Stop-”  
  
“No-one will judge you. No-one will look at you differently. So can you stop looking at yourself differently?”  
  
As soon as the tickling started, it had stopped, and Hajime took a moment to catch his breath. His cheeks were flushed from laughing, and his chest was heaving, mouth open like a fish. He blinked, trying to stop his eyes from watering, before looking up at Tooru, who was staring down at him with an almost heartbroken expression. After a moment, Hajime let a worn out, lazy grin hang on his lips lopsidedly, and he reached up with a shaking hand, flicking Tooru’s forehead.  
  
“You’re an idiot.”  
  
“You’re an even bigger idiot, though.” Tooru paused. “You always call me gorgeous, but you’re the gorgeous one, you know that?”  
  
Hajime let his hand drop across his stomach, eyes softening.  
  
“Yeah, I know. Thanks for reminding me though. You should do that more often.”  
  
Tooru wiggled so that he could flop down, head resting against Hajime’s stomach, cheek nuzzling into his boyfriend’s soft pudge. His hand stretched out across Hajime’s crotch, reaching for his hand and linking their fingers together. Hajime moved his other hand to Tooru’s hair, running it through his fingers in repeat, before taking a group of strands and fiddling with the ends. Tooru’s eyes slipped closed, and he breathed out deeply from his nose.  
  
“Maybe. Depends.”  
  
“Depends on what?”  
  
“Depends on what movie you’re going to make me watch tonight.”  
  
Hajime smirked, and Tooru propped his chin on his stomach, looking up at his boyfriend. He raised an eyebrow.  
  
“How about Spectre?”  
  
Tooru frowned.  
  
“I hate you.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys have any prompts/headcanons please send them to me at hajiimee.tumblr.com because there's a 70% chance i'll write something based around it (i also really love finding new headcanons)
> 
> (also super big thank you to christy and kyt who read over this for me and helped me with any grammatical errors you guys are lifesavers)


End file.
